


A Dance of Light and Shadow

by WoodlandGoddess1



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alien anatomy, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Ballet Dancer Kallus, Blowjobs, Hair-pulling, Knotting, M/M, Mirror Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodlandGoddess1/pseuds/WoodlandGoddess1
Summary: Ever since he was boy, Garazeb Orrelios had been devoted to his Queen. He hadn't expected to find his mate on Coruscant while escorting his Queen on a diplomatic mission.He hadn't expected to feel so conflicted.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65
Collections: Kalluzeb Mini-Bang 2021





	A Dance of Light and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> A Huge Thank You to [No Artificial Fruit Juice](https://noartificialfruitjuice.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, who provided the GORGEOUS art for this piece. Thank you so much for picking my fic for the mini-bang!
> 
> Y'all should go check out all their art!

Coruscant smelled.

The air carried soft notes of iron and stone, flowers and far stronger notes of rotting fish and sewage, spice, and so much more, which rose from the levels far below the surface. The horrendous convergence of scent threatened to turn his stomach as the door to the shuttle opened and the smell filtered in.

Zeb couldn't help grimacing. He glanced at Her Majesty, Queen Mirazet Alab. He noted the tightness of her lips, the slight shift of her pierced ears, and the faint bristle of her striped white fur. It was clear to him that he wasn't alone in his distaste for Coruscant and its smell. Huffing, Zeb lowered the ramp and the lowest ranking members of the retinue stepped out first.

Zeb would be in the middle with the Queen. He was her last line of defence and it was his job to remain close to her, and to shield her with his own body, if the worst ever came to be. Not that she wasn't capable of defending herself. Queen Mirazet had won the annual tournament five times in a row, her quick mind and quicker feet providing ample advantage over those twice her size. But protecting her was his duty, and Zeb would give his life in a heartbeat for his Queen. 

The retinue escorted Queen Mirazet into the senate building, where numerous senate guards cast them uncertain glances — some of them had to take a second look just to ensure it wasn’t a figment of their imagination. No one had seen a Lasat at the senate building since the Clone Wars broke out so long ago.

Other senate guards were somewhat hostile, but that wasn’t an unexpected reaction.

Zeb knew that remaining neutral during such a gruelling war would earn its share of hard feelings. Really, he couldn’t blame them. Personally, he’d have preferred to throw down the gauntlet and take on the Separatists, but such decisions weren’t up to him and the Queen had a lot more to consider when it came to waging war.

Queen Mirazet had to think of her people first and her personal sense of honour second.

Such was the weight of the crown.

Zeb was glad the weight of such decisions didn’t rest on his shoulders. He had enough on his plate. Casting a shrewd glance around their surroundings, and his ears pricked for the slightest noise, Zeb escorted Queen Mirazet straight to the senate chamber and joined the congregation of delegates, reclaiming their long-vacant repulsor pod.

Hundreds of senators fell silent as Queen Mirazet directed their repulsor pod straight to the centre, where Emperor Palpatine watched their approach from his own repulsor pod. His pale face was shrouded in shadow, the hood of his cloak hanging low, but his gaze seemed to glow as he studied them in silence.

Zeb didn’t like it. He didn’t like the relentless weight of his gaze, the shadows falling across his face. He didn’t like that Palpatine couldn’t be scrutinized to an equal degree. It left him on edge and uneasy, as though the rug might be pulled out from beneath their feet without warning, and Zeb was tempted to grab Queen Mirazet and leave before she could speak. 

“Emperor Palpatine,” Queen Mirazet said coolly, the microphone catching her strong voice and projecting it around the senate chamber. She offered a slight dip of her head. “I ask for permission to address the floor.”

Palpatine tilted his head slightly, his gaze sparking in the shadows. He said nothing, but gestured for her to continue. 

“Senators,” Queen Mirazet clearly, “friends —”

A jarring noise of discontent rippled through the senate chamber and Zeb stifled a sigh before it could escape. His ears twitched and his fur bristled somewhat. Already, he could tell this address was going to end in disaster, but if Queen Mirazet felt she had to speak...then it wasn’t his place to tell her otherwise.

Queen Mirazet waited until the noise died down before speaking, her voice rich and earnest as she stated firmly, “We _are_ friends. This has never been in question. Lasan might not have been involved in the fighting, but we didn’t forsake our brethren. We ran vital supplies for those in need and we’ve donated to restoration funds on Onderon and Mandalore, and others. More importantly, we offered sections of our planet as a new home for the displaced. We didn’t ignore the struggles in the galaxy, Senators, and we ask now to be heard on a matter close to our hearts.”

Queen Mirazet paused to take a breath. She raised her chin a fraction higher and straightened her shoulders, preparing for what would come next. As she gathered her courage, the senate chamber fell silent as the various delegates chewed over the words she’d spoken — the reminders that neutral and foe weren’t the same. That keeping their distance from the conflict didn’t mean that Queen Mirazet didn’t care about the galaxy, about the people spread across thousands of planets.

“I’m here to speak about Jaro Tapal and I intend to clear his name.”

A second wave of noise crashed through the senate chamber, louder than before. If the senators weren’t in the senate chamber, Zeb was certain there’d be things thrown at his Queen for the mere mention of the supposed traitor, one in a long line of supposed traitors — proof of which had never been revealed.

Jedi Master Mace Windu was the one name on the list that wasn’t in question. He’d been seen attacking the Chancellor, now the Emperor, but even that made Zeb suspicious. He’d met Windu several times in the past and the older man never seemed the kind to act without reason. He’d been calm and steady, kind and resolute, and a defender of those who couldn’t defend themselves. He’d been a man that might have earned the right to wield a bo-rifle through the _Boosahn Keeraw_ , if Windu had chosen to do more than smile and incline his head in respect at the offer of a battle in the arena.

Zeb had admired the man.

Palpatine, however…

Zeb had never liked him. He’d held an aversion to the man from the beginning, though he’d never been able to put a finger on why, given how popular he was among the senators and various rulers he’d met while working for the Queen. His predecessor in the Honour Guard had admired him. Even Queen Mirazet had respected Palpatine once upon a time — before he’d chosen to turn the Republic into an Empire, to turn a democratic senate into the strained beginnings of a dictatorship.

Zeb studied Palpatine as Queen Mirazet addressed the senate, requesting the launch of a full investigation with the help of neutral parties — a selection of investigators from wild space or further still: the Unknown Regions. The Emperor didn’t react to what was said and that unnerved him more than if Palpatine had surged to his feet in fury, condemning Queen Mirazet and her heartfelt request with shouts and wild gestures. The Emperor was too unmoving, almost like a statue, the glow of his gaze never leaving Queen Mirazet. Zeb refrained from growling, from putting himself between his Queen and Palpatine, and making a fool of himself in the senate chamber.

Zeb settled for folding his arms across his chest. The fabric of his forest green surcoat rustled in the stillness between entreaties and his formal armour gleamed under the distant lights in the senate chamber, catching the attention of Mas Amedda — once a notable and respected Vice Chair and now the eager lapdog of a dictator. Zeb and Amedda stared at each other, that blue gaze boring into his green one, burning hot and unrelenting like lightning in a storm.

His lip pulled back to reveal a threatening fang.

Amedda smirked and offered no other reply, standing in silence behind the shrouded figure of his master. His hand remained loose around his golden staff. The unspoken threat Zeb made didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

That worried him.

Zeb slid his attention to Queen Mirazet for a moment as she fell silent and then to Palpatine as the Emperor rose from his chair to answer her address. He noticed the scars on his hands, the disfigurement left from the attack Windu made against him. His lips curled in distaste at the sight and his ears flicked back against his head. Such vicious scars were the wicked work of the Bogan — the Ashla would never do such a thing, no matter how much emotion was coursing through its veins.

The mere thought that Windu could fall victim to the cold and vicious claws of the Bogan was anathema to his mind and heart in equal measure. It couldn’t be reconciled with the man he’d met in the slightest. No, something else, or someone else, was at work on Coruscant and Zeb had a feeling he knew what it was as he looked into that glowing gaze that slid over to him and seemed to stab straight through his gut like a knife.

The Bogan. 

Palpatine worked for the Bogan.

“We welcome the heartfelt words of our dear friends,” Palpatine said slowly, his words a sharp and unpleasant rasp compared to the rich and warm voice of Queen Mirazet. He raised magnanimous hands to the senate chamber. “And we recognise their heartache. That heartache is ours as well. It is often difficult to recognise the fault within those closest to us. Even now, I find it difficult to reconcile the man who attacked and disfigured me with the man I once considered a friend. Rest assured: a task force is being put together to handle the matter being raised today, and deeper investigations will soon begin. Our heartache will be assuaged and these issues will be resolved.”

Palpatine inclined his head towards Queen Mirazet.

Queen Mirazet dipped her head in return before thanking the senate chamber for granting a chance to speak and address the issue plaguing Lasan. She directed the repulsor pod back to its starting position and stepped out into the corridor, Zeb hovering close to her side, before sighing wearily, “I’m glad we booked a show for tonight. I could use a chance to unwind after that address. You could cut the tension with a knife!”

“I think we should leave,” Zeb said quietly, casting a nervous glance back towards the senate chamber as the guards encircled them once more. “Sooner rather than later, Your Majesty. I don’t trust him.”

“You never liked him.”

“Yeah. Well. Apparently, I had good reason.” Zeb and his Queen shared a glance, but he didn’t back down beneath the unspoken admonishment. “I’m serious. I have a bad feelin’ about all this. You’d be safer on Lasan.”

“Captain Orrelios,” Queen Mirazet said kindly, patting his shoulder almost fondly, “You were the best Lasat for the job when Surat stepped down. If you can’t protect me here, you can’t protect me anywhere. It doesn’t matter where I am.”

Zeb pursed his lips, but said nothing. She wasn’t wrong. No matter where he was, the facets of his job didn’t change much in the scheme of things. He hated it when she was right. It rankled him. Zeb threw one last glance at the senate chamber and shuffled closer to his Queen.

Just in case.

After returning to their shuttle, Zeb prepared for their next destination: their state rooms at the hotel Queen Mirazet lodged in whenever she visited Coruscant. He studied the schematics on his datapad for the one hundredth time, making sure he knew both the strongest and weakest points of defence. As Queen Mirazet preferred to travel with a small retinue, he and his guards would have to be at their best. Frowning, Zeb reconsidered guard placements before deciding that no, no, he’d been right the first time.

It was just his nerves acting up, making him second-guess himself.

It didn’t help that Emperor Palpatine had him rattled. 

Zeb slid his gaze over to his Queen and studied her for a long moment. She didn’t seem rattled in the slightest. But she was known for being better at concealing her emotions than most Lasats. It was rare for her to lose control of her ears, to let them undermine the expression on her face. Such control was something she’d practiced from a tender age, knowing her emotional responses would need to be guarded once she claimed the throne; it was a tradition that had been passed down for generations. Zeb sighed and leaned back in his seat to look out the window, watching the streets passing below, admiring the handsome buildings, gardens, and artwork that acted as a veil to conceal the seedier depths beneath.

As soon as the retinue arrived at the state rooms, Queen Mirazet and her handmaid disappeared into the refresher while Zeb set to work securing the state rooms. He and his guards checked for bugs, bombs, and other devices that could be used against his Queen and then took up their prearranged positions, with Zeb standing guard outside the refresher door.

It wasn’t a surprise to hear Queen Mirazet and her handmaid nattering to each other. It was a sound so familiar that he couldn’t help smiling, aware that the pair of them had been close since the tender age of five. He listened to them gossiping, heard his Queen laughing, and then shook his head as he pulled out his datapad once more. 

Zeb rifled through the messages waiting for him. Yet another message from Chava, telling him to keep a look out for the Fool while on his travels, and a soft scoffing noise escaped him before he deleted the message — just as he’d deleted all the others that came before it. Zeb had enough to do without wasting time searching for the Fool.

If the Ashla had its way, the Fool would show up in their own time and not a moment sooner. 

Zeb was more pleased to see the other messages waiting for him. The one just below the first was from his eldest brother, Bas, congratulating him on his captaincy, and apologising for being unable to attend his celebration. Zeb entered the message bar and informed him that his absence wasn’t a surprise; the chance of being transferred to the other side of the planet was one of the downsides of taking a position in the ranks.

Osrose was a large and beautiful town in the country; Bas would do well there. He’d been the quickest of them to adapt to change growing up and was known to be a charmer. He wouldn’t have an issue making new friends, finding someone to make him happy, or settling down. Bas would take to it like a duck to water. 

There were a few more messages from family; one from his grandmother; and one from his nephew. Zeb tapped a quick response to each of them before shifting his focus to the more official messages, messages from a few councillors and numerous local magistrates from various provinces, from two or three Lieutenants, and more.

Most of the official messages contained copies of various reports, but one or two of them were inquiries. He responded to those more carefully, his brow furrowing, drawing his bottom lip between his fangs and pinching the skin in thought. He was still new to the job and he didn’t want to fuck up, no matter how much confidence Chava, Surat, and Queen Mirazet seemed to have in him and his abilities.

Zeb was just tapping in his last response when the door to the refresher opened and Queen Mirazet emerged laughing, fur dripping, a huge towel wrapped around her torso. Her handmaid wasn’t far behind — just as soaked and laughing just as much. Smiling softly, Zeb shook his head as the pair of them shoved each other jovially, and watched as the two of them disappeared behind the large screen placed in the state rooms for such purposes. 

Really, when those two were together, Mirazet seemed more like a kit than a ruler.

Youth suited her. 

Lowering his gaze, Zeb let them get on with it without interruption. He read the local news on the holonet while the pair of them dried and dressed behind the screen and searched through the quagmire that was the dark net. He wasn’t surprised to see whispers about Palpatine or suggestions that he’d been behind the Clone Wars all along, that he’d been guiding both sides until he could swoop in and take power while both the Republic and the Separatists were too drained and bankrupt to do something about it. But seeing it written out like that made him nervous all the same.

It worried him. 

Zeb glanced at the screen and watched the shadow of his Queen dressing, her handmaid lacing up the bodice of her evening gown. He pursed his lips. He’d have to be extra vigilant from now on. His guards would have to be on their best behaviour, would have to keep their wits about them at all times. None of them could afford to be lax in their duties. Not even after making the trek back to Lasan. Zeb looked back down at his datapad and made a silent vow to the Ashla that he would never fail his Queen or their people.

Not ever.

Once Queen Mirazet and her handmaid finished dressing, the pair of them stepped out from behind the screen. A soft noise escaped one of the guards and the Queen chuckled as her handmaid ruffled with embarrassment and fidgeted with the skirt of her evening dress, the drape of it sleek and soft around her legs.

Zeb shook his head. He wasn’t sure he was prepared for this, for one of his guards to realise he fancied one of the women the retinue was supposed to be protecting. He wasn’t sure he was prepared for a night of glances and flustered twittering between the two, no matter how amusing his Queen seemed to find the situation. 

Once the Queen and her handmaid were prepared to leave, it didn’t take long for their small retinue to reach the Royal Theatre of Performing Arts. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from their hotel or the Federal District. The building was made of cream stone and was almost as tall and broad as the Jedi Temple, catching the admiring gaze of all those who passed in the streets as floodlights illuminated its facade. Several handsome pillars framed the large, ornate doors. Smooth steps led down to a beautiful fountain with artful jets of water dancing merrily, sprinkling into the pool at the base.

Zeb couldn’t help frowning as he stared up at the beautiful facade. Though the aesthetics were pleasing, the building was far too large for his men to secure alone. He pursed his lips and glanced at his Queen — who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest as she and her handmaid nattered away, arms entwined and ears perked with good humour. Zeb sighed as he realised he wouldn’t be able to dissuade his Queen from attending the performance — not when she’d been looking forward to it for several weeks. 

Apparently, it was a show to celebrate the return of a popular dancer who’d been wounded.

Zeb huffed and escorted his Queen inside, flashing their tickets, and gesturing for his guards to take up position as their retinue slipped upstairs to a private box. He, Queen Mirazet, and her handmaid, occupied the three seats in the box while two of his guards stationed themselves just inside the door. Another two stationed themselves outside the door and the last few stationed themselves along the corridor, providing multiple narrow lines of defence. 

The seat was comfortable, Zeb found. It was almost too comfortable.

His frown deepening, Zeb let his attention flit around the theatre, taking in the spectators in the various boxes around the circular auditorium. There was a sea of people stretched out below them as well. He noted the chandeliers overhead and wondered how tight the rivets were, what the chances of an accident were. More importantly, what the chances of something that _looked_ like an accident were.

“Relax.” Queen Mirazet patted his leg and leaned closer to him. “We’ll be fine.”

“I’ll relax when we return to the shuttle and can head home.”

“Have some faith in the Ashla, Captain.”

“I do. But I don’t have faith in Palpatine,” Zeb answered quietly, leaning closer to his Queen in turn. “And I don’t have faith in Coruscant. There are whispers, Your Majesty, whispers that Palpatine conspired against the Republic all along. That he didn’t just take advantage of the situation at hand to gain more power.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Queen Mirazet said with a sigh. She rubbed her forehead with tired fingers, her claws scraping through a soft black stripe of fur. “Can’t we just appreciate the chance to unwind? I haven’t seen a show in so long, Captain.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just doin’ my job.”

“I know, Captain. I know. And I need a break from mine.”

The pair of them lapsed into silence and the auditorium darkened not long after, but for the lights that illuminated the stage. Unlike most of the people in the audience, Zeb and the other Lasats didn’t need electro-binoculars to see the performers. As apex predators, their heightened senses gave them a distinct advantage, allowing them to see much farther and to take in greater details from a distance.

Despite his insistence on doing his job, Zeb soon found himself swept up in the performance taking place in front of him. He found himself swept up in the glitter of sequins and jewels as the dancers moved across the stage, in the controlled flex of strong muscles beneath tights and leotards and feathered tutus. Not to mention the gleam of sweat on skin that flushed with exertion.

He couldn’t help it.

Not when his gaze landed on one dancer in particular, red locks verging on brown bouncing around his strong face, and thick mutton chops framing plush lips that parted around a smile as he danced. Something tugged in his gut as he watched the dancer, watched him twirl and leap on his toes, landing with all the controlled grace of a nexu.

Swallowing thickly, Zeb shifted in his seat. He tried to ignore the immediate flare of heat between his thighs as he watched the dancer, tried to ignore the primal pull that made him want to jump down from the box and march right up to the stage, made him want to rub his face against that dark hair and feel the flex of those muscles beneath his hands. It made him want to bite down on that strong shoulder until the crisp taste of blood kissed his tongue. Zeb tried so hard to ignore it. But that primal pull was so strong, stronger than he’d ever felt before. It made his connection to the Ashla sing, a soft and clear hum that made his heart twist in his chest. 

_Mate_ , Zeb thought before he realised it. _He’s my mate_.

His breath quickened as the realisation settled inside him. His claws dug into the upholstered arms of his chair and ripped through them. Fluff spilled out around his fingers. His blood pounded in his ears with greater insistence until finally, _finally_ , the dancer and his cohorts lined along the stage and held hands, bowing to their appreciative audience, who rose to their feet as one and cheered. 

Flowers rained down on the stage. 

Zeb choked on a strangled gasp as he watched a grin light up that handsome face, dark gaze twinkling, soft skin wrinkling at the corners as the dancer gave one last wave to his audience and slipped off the stage with the rest of his troupe. Zeb watched him go, his own gaze fixed on the flex of muscle beneath tan tights, and a curse threatened to escape him when a toned backside came into view, the light material of his cream leotard cupping those firm buttocks. 

It took several moments to realise someone was calling him.

His gaze somewhat glassy, Zeb turned his attention to his Queen with some effort and hummed in question.

“I said: I’m going to see if I can see the dancers backstage,” Queen Mirazet repeated slowly, an amused gleam in her gaze. Her ears flicked as she smiled down at him and emphasised her amusement. “Are you coming, Captain?” 

“Yes,” Zeb whispered. His voice shook. “Yes, I am. I have to. My mate. I’ve found my mate.”

The Lasats around him gasped almost as one, their expressions ranging from shock to delight as Zeb surged to his feet and made for the door, almost stumbling over his own feet before managing to get a hold of himself. He refused to embarrass himself in front of his mate. No, Zeb had to be calm and confident in himself as a Lasat and as a captain.

Zeb released a breath and straightened his spine, squaring his shoulders, holding himself in place until Queen Mirazet reached him. He and one other guard escorted her during her descent from the box and her careful push through the leaving crowds while the others prepared to leave, knowing it wouldn’t be too long until Zeb and the others returned from backstage. 

As the theatre grew emptier, it became easier to move towards the theatre staff working near the stage. It wasn’t long until one of them — a Rodian — noticed their rapid approach and straightened immediately, an expression of shock and wonder crossing their amphibian features as realisation and recognition settled in place.

Zeb watched them perform an awkward bow, watched them listen with rapt attention as Queen Mirazet towered over them and spoke eagerly, and earnestly, about how much she loved the performance. How much she’d love to speak with the dancers backstage, if it would be at all possible.

“I can ask.” The Rodian nodded. “Wait here a moment and I’ll be right back.”

Zeb watched them go, watched them trip over themselves in their haste to speak to their manager or whoever was in charge, and exchanged a brief glance with Queen Mirazet. It wasn’t uncommon for people to be taken aback when presented with the Queen of Lasan without warning, her impressive height and broad stature surprising them in an instant. Being eight and a half feet tall was an uncommon feature for females of most species, Zeb knew, and for Rodians in particular.

It wasn’t long until the Rodian returned with a wide smile, offering to lead them backstage.

Queen Mirazet inclined her head in gratitude and gestured for them to lead the way, a pleased smile tugging at her own lips. Her long strides meant the Rodian had to jog to remain ahead of their group, but that didn’t seem to matter to them. 

Zeb maintained vigilance all the while, but he couldn’t stop a frisson of nerves from opening up within his chest. Part of him still couldn’t believe he’d found his mate — on Coruscant of all planets. True mates — gifted from the Ashla itself — were such a rare, sacred thing among their people, that he’d given up the idea of finding his mate a long time ago. Most people never found their mates and he hadn’t expected to be among the fortunate few who did.

 _Nerves are understandable_ , Zeb told himself as he and his fellow guardsman escorted their Queen backstage. Discreetly, he swiped his palms against his leggings, hoping the dampness wouldn’t be too noticeable. _First impressions are important. Be calm. You can do this, Zeb. You can do this. Just keep cool. You’ve faced tougher things than this before._

Zeb released a steady, measured breath and swallowed his nerves, remembering the numerous fights and fraught political interactions he’d witnessed or been involved with. Meeting his mate would be a piece of cake in comparison.

 _Piece of cake_ , Zeb told himself as the backstage door opened to reveal his mate laughing with another dancer, a hint of glitter in his mutton chops, his elbow braced against the wall as the pair of them chatted. Instead of leotard and tights, his mate now wore dark denim jeans and a soft purple shirt that draped over his frame lightly, hinting at the strength of his arms and shoulders while highlighting the strength in his thighs. Zeb swallowed the strangled noise that rose in his throat and stopped abruptly, his blood pounding in his ears.

Purple.

His mate was wearing purple. 

His colour.

Zeb moistened his lips with a quick sweep of his tongue and the action seemed to catch the attention of his mate, who glanced up, conversation pausing. His heart stopped beating as his mate gazed at him for a moment or so before that amber gaze shifted away, settling on his Queen. 

“Your Majesty,” his mate said solemnly, surprising them all with the salute of a warrior, hand wrapped around fist and his head bowed. “You honour us. We weren’t expecting a visit from someone of such high status.”

“The honour is mine,” Queen Mirazet answered warmly, a genuine smile lighting up her features. Her ears wiggled. “Truly, I wasn’t expecting such an exquisite performance. I’m so glad that I came here tonight. Aren’t you, Zeb?”

“Yes,” Zeb answered with forced calm as Queen Mirazet glanced at him with a hint of deviousness. He didn’t have a chance to scowl back at her, his attention too focused on his mate, who slid his gaze back to him at once, soft skin wrinkling at the corners as he offered a smile that brought attention to those plump, inviting lips. His own mouth quirked around a crooked smile in return as his heart jumped back into gear. “It was a pleasure to watch.”

“I’m sure,” his mate answered warmly, that amber gaze raking over him. The slide of his gaze was almost imperceptible, but Zeb noticed. He couldn’t help noticing, couldn’t help the hot twist in his stomach or the pool of insistent heat between his thighs. His mate offered a hand. “I’m Alexsandr. Alexsandr Kallus.”

Without thinking, Zeb took his hand and felt a spark of want ripple through his frame as his own hand seemed to dwarf that of Alexsandr, whose pupils dilated when he glanced down at their joined hands and then back up, lips parting around a soft breath.

His mate wanted him. 

Perhaps some part of him even recognised their connection.

Zeb couldn’t help sliding his own gaze over Alexsandr, couldn’t help imagining his hands sliding beneath that purple shirt and easing it upwards, baring soft skin for his delectation. He couldn’t help imagining the graze of his fangs against a vulnerable nipple, couldn’t help imagining Alexsandr arching against him with pleasure. His throat constricting around a sudden lump, Zeb released his hand and glanced away, struggling to put some distance between himself and those heated thoughts, knowing he couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in them.

Not now.

Not after that address.

He had to be vigilant.

Queen Mirazet needed him to be at his best.

Zeb swallowed the whine that threatened to rise, knowing his duties took precedence, even when it came to his mate. Now that he knew who his mate was, and in what avenue his profession lay, it wouldn’t be hard to track him down again in the future. He’d waited this long already; what was another few months, another few years? Zeb looked for his Queen and realised she’d moved deeper backstage, speaking with another handful of dancers, including the one who’d been chatting with Alexsandr when their group first arrived.

She’d left Zeb alone with his mate.

And Zeb realised Queen Mirazet knew what she was doing when she glanced at him from behind Alexsandr, who’d moved closer to Zeb. Her gaze carried an ocean of meaning, obvious to those who knew her, who’d spent time with her, and Zeb wanted to growl at how helpless he felt in the face of such meddling.

“Zeb,” Alexsandr said a moment later, drawing his attention back to him. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth for a moment and Zeb almost felt his breath catch with longing, wishing his own teeth were the ones teasing that lip. “How do you find Coruscant?”

“It has its perks,” Zeb couldn’t help answering, his crooked smile returning.

“Is that so,” Alexsandr breathed. He took a step closer, bringing the crisp scent of earth and iron with him. And something else, something sharper, something that threatened to make Zeb lightheaded as heat continued to rush south and pool between his thighs, the head of his cock starting to emerge from his sheath.

The scent was desire, a desire almost as potent as his own.

Zeb couldn’t help inhaling, dragging in a lungful of that scent. He imagined drowning in it and couldn’t help stepping closer, drawn to his mate. He couldn’t stop a rumble of interest and approval from rising in his chest as he said quietly, “Attractive perks.”

Alexsandr glanced down and away, his cheeks warming, his flush even more titillating with the glimmer of glitter in his mutton chops. When he glanced back up, his gaze glittered with determination. 

“Do you want to go for a walk? Get some caf?”

“I...I can’t.” Zeb took an immediate step away, regretful as Alexsandr faltered in disappointed surprise. He stopped himself from reaching out in an attempt to comfort his mate, knowing it would just make matters worse — for himself and the man who’d just asked him out. “I’m sorry; I have duties to attend to.”

“Nothing that can’t wait until the morning,” Queen Mirazet interjected calmly, her expression neutral. Except for her gaze, where cunning determination sparked. “Take the night off. I still have an escort and the hotel isn’t far, Captain.”

“But —”

“I should be going,” Queen Mirazet said brightly, clapping him on the shoulder as she moved past him on quick feet. She and her remaining guard disappeared a moment later, adding cheerfully, “Have fun!”

Zeb felt his fur ripple with embarrassment. He glanced at Alexsandr, who was staring after them with growing amusement. And then that amber gaze returned to Zeb, hot and inviting, promising a lot more than a cup of caf.

“You heard her,” said Alexsandr, his voice low and silky, his fingers sliding between his and interlocking, holding firm. He moved closer, brushing right up against his torso, his smile tantalising. “You’re supposed to have fun tonight. Come on.”

Zeb didn’t have the strength or the will to protest as his mate led him out into the night air. A chill rippled through his visible fur and forced Alexsandr to step closer to preserve warmth. His scent teased his senses and the other scents around him disappeared abruptly, leaving him lost in a pool of longing as Alexsandr led him down a few streets to a small tapcafe — where the barista had a drink waiting, though the chairs had all been turned up for the night. 

The barista glanced at Zeb in surprise and then waggled her brows at Alexsandr before moving closer to the counter to take his order.

Zeb ordered his caf strong, far blacker than his soul. It was so strong that even the barista made a face before putting it through the till and preparing the drink to his specifications. 

“Thanks, Mila,” Zeb said brightly, glancing at her nametag. “Apologies for comin’ in so late.”

“No worries,” Mila answered with a smile as she prepared his drink. She winked and gestured towards Alexsandr with a light toss of her head. “I keep the café open that bit longer when Sasha performs at the theatre. I know he needs something warm and sweet after a good show!”

“And I appreciate it.” Alexsandr wrapped a hand around his drink and took a brief sip, humming in appreciation. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks. “Put his drink on my tab, love. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

“It can wait until the afternoon.”

“And I appreciate that even more,” Alexsandr answered with a devious grin. He leaned across the counter as Mila turned around and set the steaming drink down and planted a warm kiss on her cheek. “Remind me to send something nice to the house, hm?”

“Will do!”

Zeb picked up his drink with an awkward smile as he watched the exchange between them. A small part of him worried whether his mate might be taken already, might be just using him for a casual night soon to be forgotten. The pair of them knew each other, were familiar enough for her to use a nickname, after all!

Alexsandr ushered him outside before announcing, “Mila is my sister.”

“Oh.” Zeb couldn’t help a small sigh of relief upon hearing the announcement and then a small embarrassed chuckle rumbled free, colouring the night air for a moment. “I was...uh...wonderin’ whether she might be an old flame or somethin’. Glad to know I was wrong!”

Alexsandr stood on his toes and brushed a kiss against his cheek without warning, a small smile curling his lips as he said softly, “Your embarrassment is cute.”

Zeb turned his head without thinking, bringing his lips almost close enough to steal a kiss. The soft scent of hot chocolate and whipped cream teased his senses and his gaze dropped immediately, latching onto that plush smile. 

“Patience,” Alexsandr said warmly, rolling back onto the flat of his feet. Their hands interlocked again a moment later and the pair of them continued their walk through the area, doing a circuitous route of several streets as Alexsandr luxuriated in the taste and warmth of his drink.

Zeb didn’t notice the taste of his own as he swallowed mouthful after hot mouthful. He didn’t care about his caf — he’d ordered because Alexsandr was drinking, and he didn’t want his mate to feel uncomfortable, as some did when drinking or eating alone while with someone else. His attention was focused on Alexsandr, on the shift of his muscles as he swallowed and the curl of his lips as he smiled at Zeb, on the simmering heat in his gaze just waiting to be released. 

Zeb was finished before Alexsandr and couldn’t help himself. His mate gasped as he drove him up against the wall of the nearest building and almost dropped his cup as Zeb rubbed his face against his mutton chops fiercely, a contented purr rumbling up from deep in his chest. An encouraging hum escaped Alexsandr a moment later, his strong frame melting between the wall and Zeb, one arm sliding up to hook around his shoulders.

His hand tightened its grip around his cup.

Zeb took the cup from his hands and hurled it into the nearest bin — along with his own.

“Well. At least I was almost finished.” Alexsandr chuckled and slid a drink-warmed hand up to cup his face, drawing him close. A smile full of teasing and promises curled across his glistening lips. “Hopefully, I’ll get to finish later tonight.”

“Ya will. Just tell me where to go.”

“Come with me.” Alexsandr captured his hand again and led him away, his stride long and quick. He seemed as eager to take their evening somewhere private as Zeb was, a noticeable drive in his movements.

The knowledge pleased Zeb immensely, who couldn’t stop a primal growl of approval from escaping, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he had his mate right where he wanted him. The sound seemed to spark something within Alexsandr, who quickened his pace even more, almost jogging through the streets as he pulled Zeb along behind him. 

Alexsandr soon came to a stop outside a small, but handsome building, whose facade fit in well with the other stone buildings in the district. He pulled a card from his pocket and swiped it through the lock without hesitation before leading Zeb inside and turning the lights on. Zeb blinked at the sudden brightness and then marvelled at the room he saw, at the handsome wooden flooring and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that encircled the room. Aside from two doors on either side of the dance studio, there wasn’t a single surface that wasn’t reflective.

Before he could examine the room further, Alexsandr shoved him up against the now-sealed door and kissed him hard and deep, taking advantage of his distraction to slip his tongue. 

Zeb groaned at the contact and seized strong hips, hauling his mate even closer, earning a startled noise of encouragement. His mate tasted of cream and chocolate and Zeb licked deep as he took control of the kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in red-brown hair and the other sliding down to squeeze the firm backside that taunted him throughout the performance.

It wasn’t long until he started pushing forward, guiding them both deeper into the studio, moving them further from the door. Alexsandr didn’t resist in the slightest. Slowly, pieces of clothing started to find a home on the floor as Zeb undressed his mate, his hands almost possessive as he slid his palms over bare skin and drew back to admire the man in his grasp.

A noise caught in his chest when he saw the scars.

Alexsandr faltered abruptly, one hand dropping to cover the scar on his thigh and the other crossing across his torso, fingers curling around the opposite arm. Something akin to fear flashed across his handsome features.

Zeb shook his head and stepped forward at once, his touch gentle as he found those hands and eased them away, encouraging Alexsandr to let him look with tender care. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against one of his scars, murmuring, “Ya don’t need to hide them from me. I was just surprised. What happened?”

“I was...visiting a studio on Onderon.” Alexsandr didn’t resist the arms that slid around him and gathered him close, choosing instead to lean into the strength and support offered. Zeb couldn’t stop himself from purring, letting the low rumble of it ease his mate even further. “Got caught in an explosion when the rebels were fighting the Separatist droids. You can thank the shrapnel for the scars. I almost lost the leg. You don’t know how long it took to get back into condition for dancing.”

“Talented and brave,” Zeb murmured in appreciation. He nuzzled against one mutton chop and then drew his mate in for another kiss, this one tender and deep compared to the fervent passion of before. “And gorgeous,” Zeb added when their kiss broke for air. “Don’t know what I did to deserve a night like this.” 

“Yes, you do,” Alexsandr answered with a small smile. His hands slid over his chest almost possessively, that dilated gaze dropping to admire the strength in his frame. Alexsandr leaned up to brush a kiss against the curve of his jaw. “Tall and strong, responsible. Not to mention handsome and eager. There is a lot to appreciate in this package.”

Zeb couldn’t help the small puff of pride that inflated his chest.

A moment later, Zeb scooped his mate into his arms and carried him to the nearest available surface, earning a startled squeak as that bare backside came into contact with a cold rail. He silenced his squeak with a kiss and distracted him with an eager sweep of his hands, allowing himself to appreciate the long lines and curves of his body, earning soft sighs and moans all the while. 

It wasn’t long until Alexsandr was writhing, Zeb supporting his thighs with both hands. His mate tipped his head back against the mirror, baring the beautiful arch of his neck and Zeb wanted nothing more than to lean in and bite down on his shoulder. But he couldn’t. He and his mate didn’t even know each other; his mate didn’t even know what such a bite would mean! Zeb trailed open kisses down the arch of his neck instead and smirked as Alexsandr clung to him with palpable desperation. 

One hand fisted the fur at the back of his neck. 

The other scrabbled at the belt cinching his surcoat.

It fell to the floor with a clatter and Alexsandr released a breathless laugh as he squirmed out of his grasp, standing now between him and the railing. Warmth radiated from his skin. Alexsandr pressed closer, fingers sliding to undo the buckle of one spaulder and then the other, removing the pieces with surprising care.

Zeb couldn’t help rumbling his approval.

That pleasure-darkened gaze flicked upwards and sparkled.

As soon as Alexsandr had removed all of his armour, and pulled his surcoat up over his shoulders, Zeb seized him with rough hands, pulling him flush against his chest as he almost devoured the man. Each kiss made him moan. Each graze of his claws made him shiver. Each low growl made his cock drip with more and more desire.

Finally, Alexsandr turned to face the mirror, humming his approval as Zeb guided him with his hands, claws grazing across flushed skin. His hum turned into a groan of encouragement as Zeb bent him over roughly, nudging his thighs apart.

Without thinking, Zeb dropped to his knees behind his mate, his own cock hot and hard as he admired the view. He cupped that firm backside with both hands and squeezed until Alexsandr moaned breathlessly, canting his hips in invitation. Slowly, Zeb eased the grip of his hands and slid them upwards, caressing tapered hips as he leaned in and pressed a heated kiss against the base of his spine.

Slowly, Zeb trailed his kisses downwards as he slid his hands back down. Between the caress of his hands and the sensual tease of his lips, Alexsandr was soon feverish in his grasp, face buried in the fold of his arms as he rested on the railing, using it to support himself.

Soft words of encouragement and need began dripping from his lips like the sweetest wine. 

His ears wiggling, and his chest puffing with smug pride, Zeb parted the cheeks in his hands and leaned in to lick at his core, where his scent was strongest. Alexsandr jerked in his grasp, a choked noise of pleasure squeezing out of his chest. One hand shot backwards to grip the fur at the back of his head. His mate drew him still closer and Zeb couldn’t stop a smug rumble from escaping as he returned for another swipe, running his textured tongue over needy, eager flesh that relaxed more and more beneath his touch.

Zeb went to town on his mate, alternating the length and pressure of his licks, teasing him open a little at a time and pressing deeper. It wasn’t long until his mate was squirming, rocking his hips back against his face, moaning and sighing his name over and over. The fingers gripping his fur tightened in increments and twisted without warning as Zeb brushed over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside with the ridges on his tongue, earning a startled shout of pleasure from both of them in the same sweep.

Carefully, Zeb retracted the claws of one hand and shucked his leggings down past his hips in order to run his fingers through his own slick. His fur was almost matted with it. But he didn’t care as he coated his fingers and brought them up to join his tongue, easing one of them past the relaxing ring of muscle. Zeb swallowed a chuckle when Alexsandr almost buckled beneath his ministrations, hand abandoning his fur to grip the railing for dear life.

“Y-your fingers are so big,” Alexsandr choked out.

“I’m small for a Lasat.”

“ _Fuck_.” Alexsandr rested his head against the railing, panting hard. “You’re going to ruin me.”

“Ya say that like it’s a bad thing,” Zeb murmured through a grin as he began thrusting his finger deep, but with care, all too aware that the pads of his fingers added a new texture for his mate to experience. 

“No, not a bad thing,” Alexsandr managed to gasp through a breathless laugh. “The opposite.”

“More reason for me to return to Coruscant in future.”

“Yes,” Alexsandr sighed as the rock of his hips grew more insistent.

Chuckling, Zeb obliged him and focused on pleasing his mate, on opening him up to admit a second finger. His breath caught in his chest as he watched that ring of muscle stretch tight over his fingers, shining with his slick and almost seeming to pull his fingers in whenever Zeb drew them back. Rumbling his approval and pride, Zeb caressed the small of his back with one hand and feathered open kisses across his backside, teasing the ample swell with his fangs, though he refrained from biting down. 

Alexsandr didn’t seem to mind. He welcomed his touch without question. It wasn’t long until he was shaking, almost coming apart at the seams, his hair mussed with sweat and his skin shining. Alexsandr moaned his name and spread his thighs a fraction wider, the muscles in his legs flexing and straining, highlighting his strength. 

Growling, Zeb slipped his fingers free and climbed to his feet. He gripped his backside with one hand and reached for his cock with the other, bringing himself flush against that hungry, slick core without a word. He felt that primal pull all over again as he started pushing the head of his cock through that ring of muscle, his ears flicking around to catch the stuttered breaths and frantic whispers that escaped his mate. The slide was slow, agonising, even after soaking him in his slick and opening him up, but that just made their union all the more intense.

Both of them moaned as Zeb sank to the hilt at last. 

Zeb glanced into the mirror and swallowed at the sight. His pupils were blown wider than he’d ever seen them before, almost eclipsing the green. His fur was in complete disarray, from the clench of desperate hands and the sweat that slid across the skin beneath. Zeb was a mess and he didn’t care, except for the heated glance that Alexsandr gave him through the mirror. 

Zeb slid his hips back and then rocked forward with little warning, watching as those long lashes fluttered. He watched as those plump, kiss-swollen lips parted around a gasp. He watched as small toes curled with pleasure and knew claws would be gouging deep, had Alexsandr been a Lasat. Slowly, Zeb quickened his pace, shifting from a careful slide to a rough slam of his hips as his mate relaxed around him and welcomed him.

With each snap of his hips, Alexsandr grew louder, and Zeb felt that primal pull again at the thought of people outside hearing his mate and knowing he was being ravished. Knowing he was being claimed. A low growl of triumph escaped him as Alexsandr bowed his head and Zeb couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward to seize a fistful of hair. He tugged until Alexsandr raised his head and arched his strong, exquisite back. 

Both of them watched their reflections.

Alexsandr gripped the railing for dear life.

Zeb watched flushed features twist with pleasure moments before Alexsandr jerked in his grasp abruptly, snapping back against his hips even as those powerful legs buckled. Zeb caught him before he fell and supported him through his ecstasy, holding him up as Alexsandr orgasmed around the length of his cock. 

Pride surged through his chest when he saw the splashes of spunk across the mirror.

Zeb rumbled a growl against mussed hair before sliding out carefully, his own cock still hot and hard with want. The flexible spines dotted around its length were sparking with need. And he could feel the pressure of his knot starting to build. Zeb turned his mate around with care and kissed him sweetly, but feverishly, scooping him up into his arms and settling him against his cock all over again.

Alexsandr whined against his lips, but didn’t resist as his weight dragged him down its length until his burgeoning knot pressed against his core, hot and insistent. 

Panting, Zeb shuffled forward and braced his mate against the mirror, relishing the immediate arch and startled gasp as that feverish back met cold glass. Slowly, Zeb pressed forward and slid his growing knot deeper, moaning as it swelled to lock them together. 

Alexsandr sat limp in his embrace, legs spread wide, his face slack with exhaustion and satiation. But his cock still gave a futile attempt to rise again as Zeb released inside him with a groan of agonised ecstasy, his knot keeping them locked together as he pumped his spend into his mate, drenching him. Alexsandr whimpered as his seed filled him to bursting and then sighed as the pressure of his knot began easing, allowing it to slide past that stretched and sensitive ring of muscle.

Zeb nuzzled his mutton chops when his knot died down at last and murmured softly, “Bed?”

Alexsandr gestured towards one of the doors with a tired hand and a grunt.

Purring, Zeb stepped out of his leggings with care and carried his mate through the door, up the stairs, and into a handsome apartment. He followed the lingering scent of sleep to the bedroom and nudged open the door. He carried his mate to the bed and cleaned him up with soft laps of his tongue, a crooked smile curling his lips as Alexsandr sighed before reaching for him with those beautiful hands. Zeb let himself be pulled down onto the mattress, let himself be gathered close, head tucked under a small chin.

His own lashes fluttering, Zeb relaxed into the tired embrace of his mate with a sated sigh and let the call of sleep take him. 

* * *

Zeb woke early, feeling more rested than he had in a long time. He stretched to relieve a light ache in his muscles and turned on his side, taking a moment to admire his sleeping mate while he could as he propped his head in his palm. He admired the soft curl of his lashes and the straight line of his nose, which looked cuter from the side than he’d expected. He admired the constellation of freckles dotted across the ridge of his cheeks, which softened the rugged nature of the mutton chops below. He admired the shadows that danced across relaxed features as Alexsandr shifted in his sleep, rolling over on his side, shuffling closer to him. Zeb couldn’t stop a crooked smile from tugging at his lips.

His mate was beautiful.

But it couldn’t last. 

Zeb had to get back to work. He had to get back to his Queen. 

Sighing, Zeb reached out and ran a gentle finger along that strong jaw, guilt swelling in his chest as Alexsandr frowned in his sleep before stirring a moment later, long lashes fluttering, his beautiful gaze unfocused.

“G’mornin’.”

“Morning,” Alexsandr breathed around a satisfied smile as his gaze came into focus at last. The man straddled his lap a few moments later, kissing him languidly, and Zeb didn’t have the strength of will to withdraw as those tapered hips rolled and sent sensation rippling through his groin. Both of them sighed in the same moment and Alexsandr broke their kiss slowly, his bottom lip lingering until the last possible moment. “I almost thought last night was a dream.”

“If it was, then I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Flatterer,” Alexsandr answered with a chuckle. He kissed the tip of his nose. “Have we time for one more round?”

“I don’t think so.” Zeb shook his head. Regret flickered across his face. “I should get back.”

“A shame,” his mate lamented. His strong shoulders deflated around a disappointed sigh and he shifted away, and Zeb almost reached to pull him back into place before coming to his senses and letting the man flop down beside him on the bed. “I don’t suppose the Queen would let her Captain have another evening off?”

“I’m afraid not.” Zeb sat up and turned his back on his mate. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to erase the conflicting emotions from the surface. “We’ll be leaving Coruscant before noon.”

“Oh.”

Zeb squeezed his lashes against his cheeks at the faint sound that escaped Alexsandr. His mate seemed more than just disappointed to hear that he’d be leaving. He seemed sad. And that shamed him and relieved him in the same sweep. Zeb didn’t look back over his shoulder as he stood up and stretched out the aches from his activities the night before.

Twisting his head from left to right earned a faint crack from his joints. 

Finally, Zeb turned to look at Alexsandr one last time and froze almost immediately, unprepared for the intense scrutinisation being directed at him as his mate sprawled luxuriously, one arm half-buried under the pillow. The edge of the blanket draped over his pelvis lightly, keeping him somewhat modest. Alexsandr studied him for several moments more before asking, “Does Lasan have an appreciation for fine arts?”

“Of course,” Zeb answered with mild offense, though he couldn’t stop a note of hope from filtering into his voice. “We’re not animals. We have our own dance studios and academies, our own styles.”

“I see.” A small smile curled plump lips. “Well. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

“Please do. I’m sure the Queen would love a visit from such a talented dancer.”

“I’m sure she would.” That smile deepened a fraction and Alexsandr stretched sinuously, the edge of the blanket slipping further. His amber gaze glittered as Zeb swallowed and shifted his stance. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

“Perhaps,” Zeb agreed. He couldn’t help the crooked smile that pulled at his own lips. He couldn’t help the soft rumble that escaped him as idle fingers began to caress pale skin. Zeb shook his head. “You’re a fuckin’ tease.”

“Is it working?”

“C’mere and find out.”

Chuckling, Alexsandr crawled across the bed and settled at the edge, grabbing his hips with both hands and pulling him closer with little warning.

Zeb stumbled forward and caught himself with a hand against his head. He came with a strangled grunt ten minutes later, his fingers tangled in soft hair, his pelvis pressed flush against that face for one exquisite moment before his mate withdrew, stroking him through his orgasm with the confident curl of his hand. His knees weakened for a moment before Zeb managed to pull himself together, holding himself upright as he spilled and spilled between them.

Zeb tugged his mate up from the bed and kissed him deeply, lapping the taste of himself from his lips and tongue with an eagerness that surprised even him. Another rumble escaped him as his mate shivered and sighed in his grasp, hot and wanting, flushed and eager. He slipped a hand down to return the favour and was surprised when Alexsandr toppled over the edge with the barest touch of his palm. 

“Sorry,” Alexsandr croaked. “I just… _love_ deepthroating. A lot. Surprised I didn’t cum sooner.”

A breathless laugh escaped Zeb and he cradled his mate close, resting their brows together for a moment or so. He didn’t respond with words, choosing instead to wrap his arms around him and let their breaths mingle one last time. Several moments of silence passed and then:

“You’d better come visit Lasan after that.”

“I don’t think a force exists that could stop me,” Alexsandr mused against his lips. “Perhaps if some noble should request a visit from the troupe, it might even happen sooner rather than later. The manager loves to make an impression.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Alright. You should get going,” Alexsandr said at last. He pushed him back a step, his smile returning. “You’ve kept the Queen waiting long enough. Time to get back to work. And time for me to have a shower.”

Zeb retreated obediently, a small part of him thrilled at the idea that his mate wasn’t afraid to push a man of his size around. He took one last lingering look at Alexsandr, whose muscles flexed flatteringly, as the man rose from the bed and strode out the door, heading for the refresher. A few minutes later, his ears flicked at the sound of rushing water, at the softer sound of his mate humming in appreciation underneath. Zeb steeled himself against the urge to climb in after him and went downstairs to the studio, where their clothes were still strewn all over the floor.

The sound of his movements echoed in the stillness as he dressed. 

Zeb left the studio in silence, an ache growing behind his sternum with little warning. His instincts demanded that he stay, that he remain on Coruscant and build a life with his mate. But his ethics and honour kept him walking, kept his gaze on the path ahead of him as he wound through the streets of Coruscant and returned to his duty, his Queen. On his knees in the temple, he’d sworn an oath to serve Queen Mirazet and her line until he died and not even the existence of his mate was enough to break his vow to the Ashla.

His word was his honour.

When Zeb arrived at the hotel suite, it was to face suggestive leers and whistles from his underlings as their nostrils flared at the scent of sex and man that clung to his fur. He cuffed their heads to get them back on track as the Queen’s belongings were packed back up in preparation for their travels. He took out his datapad and focused on his duty, on answering the important messages that came through the night. Zeb ignored the knowing smile Queen Mirazet directed at him from across her breakfast.

“You miss him.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Zeb didn’t look at her. “I don’t even know him.”

“Mates are such a complicated thing,” Queen Mirazet answered. Her smile softened. “You don’t know him intellectually, but his presence in the flow of the Ashla is familiar. It calls out. Yours calls out in return. I could feel it once I knew what it was.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Alright.” Queen Mirazet dipped her head. “Let me know when that changes.”

Fortunately, the Queen left him alone after that and allowed him to focus on his job.

As Queen Mirazet finished dining, Zeb had his underlings start the process of carting her belongings down to the shuttle. He lingered in the suite to watch over her, his ears pricked for the slightest sound and his gaze sharp, flicking over the windows and the door that led out to the balcony, watching for the slightest hint of danger. Zeb didn’t trust the city, not after the speeches at the senate building. 

Zeb remained vigilant as he and the other guards escorted the Queen and her handmaid down to the shuttle at last. One of his underlings remained to check them out of the hotel and re-joined them at a brisk pace, the pads of his feet quick and silent as he traversed the pavement. Zeb lingered outside the shuttle as the others secured the Queen and her handmaid inside, his gaze sweeping the buildings and streets surrounding them. 

Nothing jumped out at him. 

But he couldn’t shake the thought that something would go wrong, that Palpatine would attempt to take Queen Mirazet and her probing out of the picture. The thought remained with him as he stepped into the shuttle and raised the ramp with a press of his palm against the control panel beside him. It remained with him as the shuttle took flight and climbed higher, heading out past the stratosphere to re-join the larger ship. It remained with him as he watched various smaller spacecraft through the viewport.

It still remained when the shuttle docked and the ship left orbit.

Zeb couldn’t relax. He couldn’t sit still. His instincts kept him up and pacing, traversing the length of the ship, inspecting even its most obscure nooks and crannies as his ears flicked in growing agitation. He’d almost reached the passenger area once more when his hackles started rising, a growl rumbling up from his chest as he paused in the corridor, convinced he’d heard something behind him. Slowly, Zeb turned to face the corridor behind him.

Nothing.

But it didn’t feel right.

His jaw clenched.

A moment passed and then another before he heard the same faint sound right behind him.

Growling, Zeb turned around once more and stumbled backwards as something clocked his temple hard enough to make his head spin. Something metallic, something unseen. Something cloaked. Another blow came before he could recover, the force splitting his lip and knocking him off his feet. Zeb crashed into the wall and hit the panic button with a hard crack of his elbow before the shape of a fist splattered with his blood came at him.

His head reeling, Zeb weaved to the side, missing the blow narrowly, another growl rumbling up from his chest as his vision spotted with the strength of his concussion. Through a haze, he heard footsteps approaching in the distance as he spat a thick globule of blood from his mouth before charging aggressively, his attention locked on that splatter of his blood. He collided with something huge and solid and grappled with the thing, his muscles straining with effort as it resisted his control with startling strength and determination.

Its hand caught his neck in a powerful grip and it threw him down the corridor before he could break free, sending him hurtling into a group of his guards.

Zeb knocked them down like pins, the six of them snarling together. A protective rage flooded through his chest as the door to the passenger area slid open with a hiss. He was on his feet in seconds, throwing open his connection to the Ashla with a roar, using it to propel him as he sprinted forward and pulled his bo-rifle from his back. Changing the configuration to the ancient way, Zeb reached the door in time to see two of his underlings go down with burning holes in their heads, leaving the Queen and her handmaid undefended.

As was her unspoken duty, the handmaid put herself between Queen Mirazet and their assailant — its presence now visible as Zeb stared at the assassin droid through his connection to the Ashla. 

Zeb raised his ancient staff when the droid raised its arms to shoot the Queen and her handmaid and felt the Ashla surge through him in a powerful rush. A vibrant arc of amber lightning shot from the end of his staff and struck the droid in the middle of its chest. The droid exploded instantly, causing the Queen and her handmaid to jerk backwards, avoiding burning debris. Zeb lowered his staff and stepped forward as the droid crumpled at their feet before reaching for his commlink and snapping orders, instructing his guards to open their connections to the Ashla and start a ship-wide search for cloaked assassins. 

“You were right to worry,” Queen Mirazet said quietly, stepping around her handmaid to grasp his shoulder with a firm hand. She squeezed his shoulder. “Palpatine can’t be trusted. I fear this won’t be his last attempt.”

Zeb said nothing, but stared down at the remains of the assassin droid.

No, it wouldn’t be the last attempt. 

Lasan was in danger.

Once word of the assassination attempt broke, his people wouldn’t let it go unpunished. Some would demand justice, would demand war with Coruscant. Some would attempt to take matters into their own hands, he knew, lacking the patience to see results through official means. 

His hand tightened around his staff as he glanced at Queen Mirazet and then in the direction of his mate, left behind on Coruscant.

Whatever happened in the future....

Zeb knew it would affect generations to come.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a prompt I found via this [prompt generator](https://atsuzaki-playground.neocities.org/).


End file.
